Do You Love Me?
by RavenclawWeasel531
Summary: She knows he says the words, but does he mean them? Elizabeth/Philip sometime in season 2. Inspired by Just Give Me A Reason by PINK.


**Okay, I'm kind of nervous about this. One, these are real people I'm writing them about, even if it is in the context of the show. Two, it's a little angsty, and I've never written angst(even if I read waaaaaay more then is actually healthy).**

 **DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Crown In case you hadn't guessed.**

 _ **Elizabeth POV**_

I was thirteen when I first met Philip. Still a child in many aspects, but he captured my interest quickly. We started exchanging letters, and I fell for him faster than anyone would have expected.

Those letters were the most vulnerable I'd ever been with anyone. I told him my secrets, my woes and my pros. He listened, offering encouragement or advice, even just words that showed how much he cared. This lasted until I was 18, when he began to formally court me after the war. Sometimes, I go back and read his letters, just to remind myself what we used to be.

Somewhere along the line, he stopped being the caring, loving, passionate man I fell in love with. He leaves every night to drink, and we've stopped sharing a bed. The few nights we do, we have sex, then turn away from each other. We used to confide to each other long into the night, but not anymore. I can hear his breathing, shallow and irregular, as though he's pretending to be asleep.

"Philip," I turn to stare at him. "Do you still love me?"

He bolts upright and stares at me, as though he didn't comprehend the question. "Of course I do Lilibet. Why would you say that?" His voice is low and concerned.

"Because you don't act like it. You go out drinking and I barely see you in the evenings. We sleep in separate beds, and when we do talk, half the time we're arguing. What do you expect me to think? For goodness sakes, you even have a picture of some other woman in your briefcase!" I hissed, sitting up and staring at him. While I am attempting to keep my voice low, lest I wake anyone, it's proving difficult.

"Hang on," Philip said, turning to face me. "How do you know I have a picture of someone else in my briefcase? Are you snooping through my things?" He accused.

"For your information, I saw it when I was putting that letter and the camera in your bag," I respond. "I wasn't snooping. So, is that your mistress? The woman who you spend most of your nights with?" I snap back, trying to control my anger.

Philip sighed, his expression changing from defiant to defeated. "All right. I've been cheating on you. No, I don't spend most of my nights with her. I've slept with her maybe twice. And I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have, but this is just as hard for me as you."

"I know it's been hard, but really? Your way of coping is to cheat on me? I thought you loved me," I accuse, staring daggers. "You expect me to believe you after I find out that you cheated? Words aren't enough Philip."

"I know they're not. But I'm actually asking. What do I need to do to show you that I love you?" He says, his eyes looking straight into mine, something he hasn't done for ages.

"I don't want you to feel like you need to show me anything. I want you to want to show me. And that's up to you. Just convince me," I say, staring back.

"I refuse to believe that you're giving up on me that easily. You told me yourself, we've been in love since you were 13. We exchanged letters for 5 years and I courted you for three. People didn't even want you to marry me!" He says this last part louder.

"Shhh, keep your voice down." I whisper. "I'm not saying that I don't love you, it's that I think you don't love me. And after what I found, why should I think differently?"

 _ **Philip POV**_

"Okay", I say. "One, you found that picture almost 7 months ago. I've been gone for 5 of those months. And I haven't seen her since I got back. And don't plan on starting," I say. "Two, you've accepted that I love you for those 7 months. I say it to you every night, and you've never had any problems. Why now, all of a sudden? It's 1 in the morning for god's sake!"

"What if I haven't been seeing any other women since I got back from my tour? Did that even occur to you?" I'm almost shouting at this point."Yes, it actually did occur to me," she hisses. "But I don't know if I could trust that you weren't. After all, I was told that these Thursday Club gatherings were perfectly innocent. So, what am I supposed to think? " Her voice is cutting.

"I don't know!" I shout. "Maybe you should have asked me when this was an issue! I haven't been there in weeks, so why can't we just put this in the past?" My voice quiets, remembering that it would probably not be good if one of the servants came in right now.

"We can't put it in the past because I don't want to pretend everything is fine," Elizabeth snaps. "That's what goes wrong with most marriages and leads to a divorce. And since we don't have a divorce option, I'd rather not spend the rest of my life miserable, thanks.

"I can't believe that we are arguing about something that happened a year ago. What the hell did I do in the last few weeks? Ever since we went to the theater you've stopped coming to my bed, spending lunch with me, and just talking. It's like you shut yourself out," I choke.

"I haven't been shutting you out!" Her voice rises. "You've been the one who stopped coming by my office for lunch, not the other way around, and when I came to your bed, you were pretending to sleep. I don't think it was me doing the shutting out."

"Look, neither of us is innocent. I've done my fair share of messing up this marriage, but I didn't do all of it. You certainly messed up plenty too." I snap, ignoring the tears that are probably running down my cheeks. "I'm so sick of this argument! Just for once in your life, admit that you did something wrong!"

"God Philip," she chokes out. "If you'd just simply said that you had a problem with my communication, that would have saved so much time and energy."

Looking down at her, I see that she's dangerously close to her breaking point. I notice for the first time that we've gotten up and are standing on opposite sides of the room. I stride over to where she's standing, and pull her to my chest.

 _ **Elizabeth POV**_

"I love you," he whispers into my ear as I shake with silent sobs. His arms are wrapped around me and I barely notice when he gently picks me up and places me on the bed before joining me and gently stroking my hair.

"I love you too," I cry into his chest. "And no matter how hard I try, I'm not going to be able to stop. I have tried, and all that seems to happen is that I end up loving you more."

"I know," he murmurs. "I've tried too. We seem to have a knack for having things turn out the opposite of how we want them."

For some reason, this comment seems to cheer me up, though I don't know why, and my tears slow. I sit up and look at him.

"That's true," I say quietly. "For instance, I didn't really want to start crying in the middle of the night because you told me you loved me.

"Elizabeth," he says firmly. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with crying. In fact, I believe it's good for you to get your emotions out. You can't just bottle them up like you do, it's not healthy.

"Says you," I snap back. "If you have problems, you just forget about them. Or better yet, go get so drunk that you can't remember them. That's not helpful in any circumstances," I retort sarcastically. Then, I burst into tears for the second time that night.

"Shhhh," he soothes as I huddle into a ball. He whispers nonsensical words as he holds me again, this time as though I'll be ripped from his arms and that the only way to prevent it is to hold on as tight as he can.

We stay that way for a long, long time. Every so often, he'll gently kiss the top of my head and I'll feel the top of my hair get slightly wet. It occurs to me a moment later that Philip is crying. Philip. Someone who I've only seen cry once in all the years we were married. Furthermore, I caused it.

"You're crying," I say softly. "I'm sorry for what I said."

"You don't have to be," he says, his voice full of unshed tears.. "I deserved it. That's not how I should treat you."

"Frankly, that's not how one treats a woman he loves in general. Let alone his wife. You don't need to be sorry Lilibet," he soothes, sensing that I'm still crying quietly, though if it's because he can feel them running down his chest or if the choked quality of my voice is enough of an indication.

I sit up and look at him, my vision blurred with tears.

"Just because you messed up isn't a reason for me to treat you like trash," I choke out. "You just said that if you love someone, you don't-"

He kisses me gently on the mouth, cutting me off. His mouth envelops mine, and I smile against it, before kissing him back.

He withdraws from our kiss and smiles at me. "I know. But just remember even if you do something wrong, I'll love you anyways."

"Same goes for you," I say, snuggling into his chest. A thought suddenly occurs to me.

"Philp," I say. "What if we went to a therapist?"

He's silent for a minute and I begin to worry that I said something wrong. I'm about to ask when he speaks.

"That's probably not a bad idea. It might be more work then you want, since you'd need to find one who wasn't too weird about working for the royal family, and one who wouldn't tell people that we have marriage issues, but we could try it," he mused.

"Okay. That sounds good," I say, yawning.

"Get some sleep darling," I hear Philip say above me. "I love you."

I'm asleep before I can reply. Asleep and safe, in the arms of the man I love.

 **Well? What did you think? As I said, I haven't written anything like this before, but when the plot bunnies won't leave you alone, well, I think any of us who are writers know what happens. I'd love to hear what you thought!**


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